Memoirs of Loss
by AKFGdork
Summary: When the Great War ensues, the Akuma tie themselves into the chaos. After four years of bloodshed, Allen Walker, Lavi, Komui and Lenalee Lee have survived through those dark times. Yet, the bloodstained memories continue to haunt them.
1. Prelude

This was rated M for a reason. If you'd like to find out why, it will come in a one or two chapters, depending on your tolerance.

The following story is based off of the real-life battles, events, places, and people that served in the battles of or lived during World War I.

* * *

His blood spilled onto the cobblestone as fast as the screams echoed through the streets. A single bullet changed the course of history forever. Whether the trigger had been pulled by a human hand or not seemed insignificant in comparison to the events that were about to unfold.

June 28, 1914. That day, a war was set in motion; that day, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the throne of the Austria-Hungarian empire, was assassinated, and after that day the world would be changed forever. In outrage, Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary declared war on the country his son was assassinated in - Serbia. As an ally of Serbia, Russia then announced full mobilization of their forces. Germany enjoined with Russia to stop the mobilization, though the Russians failed to heed them; thus, Germany declared war on Russia. Wanting more, Germany declared war on France. War declaration, after war declaration; meaningless treaty, after meaningless treaty; death, after death; it would not stop.

Death. Destruction. Corruption. Confusion. Heresy. Chaos. All can be summed up into one, simple word: War. And 1914 was the year it started - The Great War. You, too, will soon find why it was found to be so great through these memoirs of loss.

Allen Walker lay on the small hospital bed, bandages coarse against his skin; morning rays of light filtered through the half-closed, opaque, ivory colored curtains, the warmth awakening his war-dulled nerves. He stared at he mold encrusted ceiling, his eyes emotionless and hollow; cold to death, pain, and loss - taken away from care, warmth, and love. Four years of endless bloodshed had taken its toll; the smell of blood still rife in his nose, the sight of death still fresh in his mind, the kick of a rifle still danced across his finger tips, the sound of bullets still rang in his ears, and the cold chill of war still ran through him.

Though, it was over - the fighting was over on November 11th, at eleven o'clock A.M.; he would remember that very moment for the rest of his life. He would have smiled if he hadn't lost it on the front lines, he would have yelled in celebration if his voice hadn't been drawn coarse from screaming in pain, he would have jumped for joy if wounds didn't sap away strength; no, Allen had his own way of celebrating. Heavy with fatigue, his eyelids fluttered shut. Just as sleep was washing over him, he felt a soft hand hold his callous fingers; something of a smile touched his lips. Drawn into the darkness of sleep, his attempt at a smile sagged back into his ever-present emotionless mask as the memories flooded back.

---

The Battle of Mons raged onward; the Germans were advancing on the capitol of France at an alarming speed, leaving nothing but death in their wake. The Germans had already swept over neutral Belgium, and they were homing in on Paris. No trenches had yet been dug; the battle had no time to settle.

Three cloaked figures sat in and around a tree, their multicolored cloaks blending their outline with the foliage. Allen was amongst them, cloaked and concealed. Black masks covered their emotions, their faces, and their identities; large, tinted blast-glass circles served for eyepieces. They loomed over the battlefield, watching the bloodshed intently.

Allen viewed the scenery with disgust; he could see the limbs getting blown off, the bullets tearing through; he could hear the screams of pain (be it allied or not), the deafening explosions; and he could smell the blood and corpses rife in the air. The boy winced in pain, the sight of death was disturbing, just as his nose crinkled at the sickening smell of the dead; the General utilized the rest of his energy to refrain from covering his ears at the sounds. The covert-op mask that was given to him, much to his distress, was finally coming in handy. The Exorcist's gloved hand dug into the dry bark of the thick tree branch as he leaned casually onto the trunk, and calmly sat on a branch, desperately trying not to let his emotions seep into his body language. Ten feet off the ground, he was used to heights thanks to the circus; the sight of a decrepit, dying, and crying souls was something he came accustomed to thanks to his curse; though, the sight of people - fellow humans, who had lives, family, friends - dying was something he could never bear. How could humans kill one another without a thought? How could they not realize that even their enemies are just as human as them? The fifteen-year-old child unconsciously flinched at the mention and sight of such a thing.

The slight movement caught his master's eye, "Do you sense any of "them"?". The fellow General leaned back against the tree, the wrinkles and bends of his cloak suggesting he had his arms folded impatiently for some time.

Allen shook himself out of his daze, Cross' voice unwanted, the release from death's trance welcome. The familiar click and whirl of his cursed eye rang out with the spinning gear in front of his left eyepiece; one last check, just to make sure. Allen shook his head, the whirl ending in a click and the gear broke into dust in the wind, "No, Master."

"Well then, we're not needed here," With a grunt, Cross heaved himself off the comfort of the tree, "Do you mind, Bookman?"

Bookman stood silently, a few feet away; old and short, Old Man Panda kept to his work - recording. "Go right ahead," The Bookman waved a hand in dismissal; his voice was gruff and withered from both time and smoking.

"If "they" appear, you know what to do," Cross' cloak folded behind his shoulders as he lifted his hand; all but his index and middle fingers clenched tight. Allen nonchalantly hopped off of the branch; the landing was soft and light, well practiced and polished. General Cross murmured words of sorcery beneath his breath, words incoherent; he lifted his hand and leaned it forward, as though he was tapping something with the back of his two fingers. A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, and in a flurry of leaves, the two Generals disappeared.

---

"Allen. Allen!" Lenalee's soft voice rang through his ears. The young man's eyes flew open in alarm, soon becoming aware that he was yelling. His hysteria ended in fast, heaving breaths; his eyes darted around the room alarmed, beads of cold sweat nothing but a chill against his skin. The General's eyes landed on her worried face, and he relaxed with an ashamed sigh.

"Please, don't do that," the fellow Exorcist's eyes clenched in a bizarre mix of frustration and worry as she motioned her hands out, indicating him. The twenty-year-old young woman's features fell from frustration to something of relief and embarrassment with a hefty sigh; her shoulders sagging with.

"Don't do what?" Allen asked simply; his voice rough, and tired, "Relaxing when I see you, or the hysteric screaming?"

His close friend smiled, happy to see that his wit managed to make it through the war; yet, inside, her heart cracked slightly when she noticed his inability to smile. Lenalee masked her worry with an exasperated sight, and hopped back into the swing of the conversation; she rolled her eyes to the heavens, desperately trying to hide her smile with a disappointed frown, "The latter, thank you."

Allen tried to produce a chuckle, only to have it fall to nothing but an awkward cough. Lenalee's once somewhat carefree attitude fell back into worry, a twinge of remorse draped a veil of pain over her face. Panicked at the sight of her distress, Allen tried to muster up a smile, only to have it fall into a lopsided, pained grin. Lenalee felt her heart crack slightly; what _had_ happened to him on the battlefield?

She gripped his hand with urgency and fear, "_Please_, if anything is wrong -" - She looked away; soft, jet black bangs a veil between their faces. - " just - ..."

Lenalee pulled her head back to face him; his emotionless face sent a pang of sadness through her. There was another pause. With a deep, apprehensive breath she rubbed her neck with her free hand in nervousness; his friend looked away to hide her flushed face. Lenalee started her thought anew, "I'm scared for you." - She mustered up her strength and looked him square in the eyes; face contorted with worry, and eyes filled with fear. - "If there 's _anything_ - _anything_ at all bothering you or if there is anything wrong, I'm here. _Please_, remember that you're not alone."

Allen's face was an emotionless mask, just as his voice echoed it, "I know."

Lenalee stood up, and walked out of the small hospital room with a small farewell. The soft click of the door left Allen staring at the ceiling, once again.

"Lavi, I know you're here," Lenalee's voice strained to scream at her friend.

The redheaded Bookman leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, and an eyebrow raised in question, "Yes?" His voice rattled through the halls with mock surprise.

Still right outside of the door, the young lady turned to the voice at her immediate right. She drew in a sharp breath to smother a yelp, Lavi's face was mere inches from hers. The young woman folded her arms across her chest in anger, and looked away, rolling her eyes to the sky; her drawn breath gone with an exasperated huff.

She leaned her head out forward, anger evident, "Do you think it's polite to eavesdrop?"

The twenty-two-year-old man took a step back, hands raised in defeat; yet, mischief was evident in his grin, "I _am_ a Bookman."

Lenalee drew her head back in astonishment, then lowered her head in dangerous realization. Eyebrow raised, head tilted, and menacing glare gave Lavi the message, "Alright, I'm sorry." - Taking the chance, he changed the subject to a more pressing matter. - "You called me here?"

With an odd mix of a sigh, pout, and glare Lenalee regained her composure. "Yes, I did," the Exorcist started; nervously fiddling at the hem of her skirt, "It's about Allen." - She indicated his room with a motion of her hand, earning an understanding nod from Lavi. - "It's obvious there's something wrong with him, yet he acts like it's nothing." - She let out pained breath, and rubbed the back of her neck in worry. Lenalee looked through the dirty, opaque window on the door to see Allen's fuzzy outline; almost willing for something good to happen. - "Something must have happened; he won't breath a word of it." - The Exorcist turned back to Lavi, eyes pleading, voice pained. - "Please, tell me what happened."

Her old friend let out a sigh, its emotion covered with a mumble, "I knew this was coming." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Lavi looked Lenalee in the eyes, and opened his mouth to say something, though thought better to stop. He bit his lip in contemplation; what was he hiding? The Bookman looked back at her, a solemn smile on his face, "It'd be best if he told you." His footsteps seemed hesitant as he walked away.

"But - !" Lenalee started after her friend. Lavi turned on a heel and rounded his way back to her, finishing her sentence for her, "But, I should at least tell you something."

Lenalee let out a heavy sigh of relief, a smile tugging at her lips. Her relief soon fell when she saw his grave expression, "C'mon, Lenalee, let's go for a walk; this could take a while."

* * *

*sigh*... Yes, I'm alive. I'd originally planned on placing this on when I was done, but... Well... It's been VERY slow going (I have Chapter 1 done; I'll upload it in a bit). I just need some feedback; I think that might help, I dunno.

Anyway, please Read and Review. Thank you. :)

Keep up the awesomeness!

'till next time,

AKFGdork


	2. Chapter 1

The mix of dirt and gravel crunched 'neath their steps as they walked through a small, obscure, wild garden tucked away in a nest of trees near the Black Order HQ. The flowers were not in bloom, and the trees were shedding their once green leaves. The scene was as morbid as it was reflective. Lenalee and Lavi aimlessly walked through the garden; their chests heavy with nervousness, and guilt.

"Y'know," Lavi reluctantly started the conversation; the Bookman hid his hands from the cold in his coat pockets, and poked his head out from its comfortably nestled spot in his scarf to speak, "only the _fighting_ ended yesterday; we still have to sort out the politics." Lavi inwardly cursed at himself for such a pessimistic opening.

Surprisingly, Lenalee didn't take it as badly as expected. A solemn smile tugged at her lips as she looked off into the shadows of the woods, "But, that was probably the worst of what 's to come." - She paused for a moment, and watched her sigh of relief turn to mist in the cold fall day. A smile touched her lips when she looked up to him, in newfound hope. - "The fighting was the one that hurt most, right?"

Lavi let out an aggravated sigh, lips hung in a frown, and the Bookman's brows sagged in disgust, "_But_, I still have t' work out the politics."

Lenalee tore her eyes from his with a roll of her eyes, and a giggle, "Well, thank God _I_ don't have to deal with that."

"Actually," her friend's eyes widened in realization, and his brows quirked in surprise of his forgetfulness, "you do."

Lenalee Lee stopped in her tracks out of sheer shock; dear Lord, anything but politics, "E-excuse me?" Lavi kept walking; the grin at her reaction was covered over with a wince. She jogged back to his side and glared at him, her jaw hanging slightly in shock and abhorrence, "Brother never said anything about this."

"Well," he began, taken aback slightly, "the Triple Entente wants to press charges against Kaiser Wilhelm II, and they need witnesses." - he paused, and looked Lenalee over; as if he was worried she might hurt him. - "_high ranking_ witnesses." Lavi winced in preparation to get hit with something; Lenalee usually used anything from clipboards to fists.

Instead, her shoulders sagged in disappointment as she watched her tense breath turn into mist, "Just because I'm an Exorcist." - the young woman let her frustration pass through a sigh, and a shake of her head; she looked back at Lavi. - "Can we stick to why I followed you here?"

"Right!" The man took a seat on a small, decrepit, and old bench at the edge of the garden, "Take a seat, this might take a little bit." The wooden seat creaked twice from the new weight.

And so, Lavi began, "At first our section, y'know a part of the 4th Chasseur division," - Lenalee nodded, knowing the significance of their roll; the fourth Chasseur division, there were only three, 'till the Black Order came along. The Chasseurs were the near equivalent of the modern day Special Ops, and they became even more powerful when Exorcists became a part of it. - "only went on recon missions. Unfortunately, most of them were for observation. Allen seemed more and more distant with each one; I couldn't see his face under that mask, but -." He stopped and looked away in thought.

Lenalee leaned toward him, a mix of expectation, anticipation, and hope strewn about her face, "But?"

The Bookman turned back, his expression a mask; he was hiding something. Torn, though not surprised, as it seemed everyone had something to hide these days, Lenalee sat in expectation. "Old Man Panda would kill me if I _told_ you." The female Exorcist's shoulders sagged with disappointment, her eyes downcast and mounting in worry, and her expression could not be seen through her veil of bangs as she hung her head. Lavi let a grin dance across his lips as he started again, "But I _can_ show you."

He pulled a fair sized book from his inside coat pocket; no words were on the cover, and there were no frills - it was a simple, slightly beat up, black book. "I've been working on it non-stop, so I bring it around with me, " His grin softened into a solemn smile. Lavi's voice caught her attention, her head shot up, her eyes alight with new hope. Lenalee Lee reached to grab it, though at the last second, at last thought, Lavi pulled it back into his coat pocket; a veil of remorse over his face.

Lenalee let out an angry huff, her arms folded across her chest in impatience; her expression a mix of a pout and a look of disdain, she was at her wits end, "How many times am I going to have to wait?"

"Not much longer." - He looked at her, subconsciously leaning away; he smiled at her enthusiasm (need it be for a person she loved or otherwise), and ruffled her soft, black hair. Lenalee had let it down today, the locks dangled one or two inches from the bottom of her shoulder blades; she grew it out, as promised. - "This volume has a bit _too_ much info." - Lavi let go of her head, and hung a reassuring arm around her shoulders; he really was like a brother to her, as she was a sister to him. - "I'll write up what I can show you; you'll have it by tomorrow."

Lenalee's face lit up with joy, "Thank you."

"You shouldn't be thanking me," he stood up and began to walk away; his tone almost seemed almost joking, "I'm only giving you what I _can_, it'd be best if your little-lover-boy told you certain parts; they are _his_ memories. See you here tomorrow."

"Certain pa - ? Wait..." Lenalee paused more so out of sheer shock of what Lavi just proposed. Her expression and tone turned into a blend of confusion and upset, with a hint of happiness as she called after the Bookman, "What do you mean by _my_ "little-lover-boy"?"

He was little over fifteen feet away by the time she formulated her question. She could hear Lavi laugh as he raised his hand in a lazy goodbye. Lenalee shook her head in disappointment at what seemed to be Lavi's inability to grasp the seriousness of the situation and happy disbelief that she could _finally_ help Allen.

Lenalee lay in the cold chill of an autumn night, the simplistic white bed sheets soft at her touch. The moonlight seeped into her room, through opaque curtains; the young woman's skin bathed in the chilled air and filtered light. A veil of saddened anxiety hung in the night air. Lenalee's eyes were soon half-lidded with fatigue, sleep's grasp cold and frightening as its claws wrapped around her. The nightmares would ride into her thoughts, and slaughter her dreams into a visceral mess - the visions worsening with her bloodstained memories. Lenalee fought with nothing but fear in her hands, and fatigue in her eyes - sleep was inevitable. Yet, this was no vision of a demolished future of her dead friends, but of repressed, crimson soaked memories.

---

Her eyes opened, only to find nothing but darkness. The seventeen-year-old girl stood in nothing but a sea of black. Lenalee's senses felt dead and dull; she could not feel a cold chill or warm breeze graze her skin; she could not see what lay beyond her fingertips; she could not hear her own breath leave her lips; but the scent was of death.

Slowly, Lenalee felt a warm liquid seep between her fingers. Albeit, the feeling came upon her slowly, but the liquid touch was all too familiar. She looked at her hands; fear widening her eyes and shock quickening her breath - there was nothing. But, the wretched sensation of blood continued to smother her hands, its touch slowly winding its way up her arm. Panicked, she tried to wipe the intangible blood off of her hands, desperately trying to swipe it away.

She tried to ignore the growing echo, pained voices resonating through the void. So many of them, and they were all calling her through pain etched screams; the layers of voices growing with the pounding of her heart in her ears. Tears poured out of her eyes, she had come accustomed to hearing someone in pain, yet these were voices she knew all too well. And they were calling for her.

The girl tried to scream, though nothing was heard, and none would hear it. Lenalee sank to her knees with her falling tears. Desperate to shut out the pain-ridden screams, she covered her ears with her hands, the touch of the crimson liquid unrelenting; her eyes shut. Ironically, she did not see the shadows behind her eyelids, but a sight she remembered all too well.

It did not last more than a second, but each detail was vividly realistic. The hole in his chest was nothing but a pool of blood. His white hair was stained crimson, the wet locks a veil over his unmoving face.

---

The young woman awoke with a scream, tears streaming out of her eyes. The bed sheets were strewn about just as they were sticking to her sweat soaked skin. Lenalee's chest rose and feel with heaving breath, her eyes darted around her room in panic. Though, in a matter of seconds, her fear and anxiety soothed into controlled breathing; the soft bed sheets at her fingers, warm sun on her cheek, and sight of her room were welcoming sights. Hurriedly, Lenalee got ready for the day. Black Order uniform on, she was still tying up her hair as she raced out of her room. Her only thought, _I hope Lavi doesn't sleep in today_.

* * *

Thus, let the waiting begin.

Please, read and review! Thank you.

Keep up the awesomeness!

'till next time,

AKFGdork


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